Contemporary Reporter
by Rianna Lauren
Summary: Reporter, traveler, and... adventurer? Join Tintin as he climbs his way up to become the world's famous reporter, traveling around the world and encountering thrilling adventures, in our very own 21st century. AU story.
1. Prologue

**Contemporary Reporter**

I stepped outside from my cabin and inhaled the stiff, sea breeze. I couldn't help but grin – it has been a quite trip, but I very much enjoyed it. I looked down as my white terrier fox, Snowy, barked happily and wagged his tail.

"Good morning to you too, Snowy," I chuckled and bent down to stroke his fur.

The sky was perfect that morning. The sun wasn't too bright, but it was warm enough to melt the freezing air. Thin clouds were surrounding the sky, making a warm blended color of white and blue.

Nothing could get any better than that.

I strolled over to the bow of the ship and leaned myself on the railings, facing towards the sea. A small smirk made its way to the corner of my lips. I was successful. Victorious. It was one of my first, greatest achievements. It's nothing majorly grand, if you ask anyone else.

Well, not yet, at least.

But going all the way to Russia and successfully writing an article on it was hitting a great milestone to me. Visiting new places, seeing new sights…

At first, I was rather nervous. And I didn't think I could go through it, but I did. And it was thrilling.

I was already excited when Le Petit Vingtième sent me out for the job. It was my first time of setting foot outside the country, and I accomplished my assignment. I knew I shouldn't be too proud, but I still couldn't help but feel good about it.

Travelling was a fun side of being a reporter. To be able to meet different people and experience things like never before – that may be ordinary to most people, but to me, it has its own charms.

And then there's the essential part of being a reporter – writing. Either when you type down an article or when you stand in front of the camera reporting a live event, it happens, physically or mentally. It's more than just jotting down words onto paper, or typing down letters on a keyboard. To write is to reflect your thoughts, compile words into a unique artwork of your own, and draw in your readers into a whole, new realm.

And most of the time, in my case, once you fall into the wonders of writing, it's almost impossible to get out of it.

As silly as it sounds, being a reporter is almost like and adventure to me. The places, the stories, the events, the people. So many things I can feel and experience. To some extent, a reporter's job could even be dangerous. And when you're chasing a big story, it always give you that adrenaline rush throughout your body.

I lifted my gaze towards the sea. It should be good to come back to good old Brussels. I was so much more exhausted than I expected I would get. But I know I still have a long way to go. This is just the beginning.

My name? It won't mean a thing to you…

…but at home they call me Tintin.

-X-X-X-

Just an experimental story, not sure exactly where it's gonna go, BUT, it is going to be an alternate-universe story, and will be co-written by mi amigo FameAndJoy42. :3  
Please review! :)


	2. Chapter 2

The door to the apartment clicked open as Snowy yapped happily and burst into the room. Tintin dropped his heavy suitcases to the floor and slid off his coat. He quickly flopped himself to his bed with a long, relieved sigh.

"Home at last," he murmured.

Snowy barked again and climbed up to Tintin's bed, huddling comfortably near him. "Get some rest, boy," Tintin laughed. He sat up and flipped open his laptop, scrambling through files to find his article to be emailed.

"You know, Snowy," he spoke out with his gaze on the screen. "It's been exhausting and definitely challenging, but I don't think I would mind being sent out to trips for more articles."

Snowy howled in disapproval and lazily buried his face in the covers. Tintin smiled in amusement. "I have to admit, it was actually exciting. Maybe it's because I've never done it before, but still, I enjoyed it."

He clicked on a button and sent his article. He stared blankly at the screen, fantasizing on where he might go next. America, perhaps? Or maybe China? Egypt? Peru?

There were so many possibilities.

Tintin closed his laptop and got off from his bed. "Come on, Snowy, we can't stay for long," he said. "I still need to finish that research I delayed the other day. The articles are due next week."

Snowy cracked one eye open to see Tintin back in his coat and shoes. He howled again, pleading to stay.

"It won't take long," Tintin promised. "We'll be back before dinner time."

After a few moments, Snowy finally complied and caught up with Tintin at the door.

The street was crowded with zooming cars and countless groups of people were moving along the sidewalk. Tall, gigantic buildings shaded over the city as Tintin and Snowy made their way to start the research.

"Alright, Snowy," Tintin mumbled, scrolling through the notes in his phone. "We're closest to the northwest residence right now, we can start from there, and then move straight north. We can drop by that dinner takeaway there, too, and head home."

Snowy barked impatiently at the words "head home".

Tintin hummed. "That's not going to finish much of the work, though. Maybe we should take a shortcut to—"

He stopped himself when a loud, sudden siren wailed from the distance, moving closer before finally zooming past them. His eyes widened slightly at the two police cars speeding away in the main road before taking a sharp turn to the left.

In an instant, with a ghostly smile playing over his lips, Tintin turned on his heels and ran after the cars.

"Come on, Snowy!"

The terrier was quick to follow. They dashed away towards the cars, trying to keep up, but they were eventually too fast for them to follow. Tintin was gasping for breath when his legs couldn't carry on running. His eyes were still on the cars as they took another turn on the road, the distant sirens still clearly audible.

"If they're going down that road, there's only one place they could possibly be heading to," he managed to breathe out. "But we won't make it in time…"

Snowy seemed to have the same thought when he barked and gestured at a narrow alleyway, squeezed in between two buildings across the road. Tintin turned, and finally beamed.

"Shortcut! Good boy, Snowy!"

So they crossed the road and jogged through the alley, making a few turns to paths even narrower than before. But when they finally reached the main road again, Tintin was grinning.

The local bank stood in all its glory, surrounded by police cars as the alarm in the building shrieked very loudly.

Tintin switched on the camera on his phone with a grin of excitement. "Look at this, Snowy. Bank robbery," he murmured as he crept towards the bank. "Just our luck – finally a real story!"

He leaned against a tree, a few meters away from the scene, and quietly observed everything as he took snippets of images. Several policemen cleared the area and the others secured the building, searching for the culprit.

But something else in the commotion caught his attention.

One of the policemen stepped out of his car, burying his hands in the pockets of his trousers. His eyes momentarily swept the area before he strolled away from the building and into the woods nearby.

Tintin lowered his phone with his gaze following the policeman. "What's he doing _there_?" he whispered.

He looked to his left and right, then gestured to Snowy as they ran off after the policeman.

They sneaked between the trees, hoping they hadn't lost hi m yet. The policeman was back in their line of sight, conversing with another man in a trench coat and a hat. Tintin held his breath and silently moved closer to the men. He took a spot behind a tree, making sure he was well-hidden, and leaned forward slightly, listening to their faint voices.

"You're late," the man in the trench coat scolded angrily.

The policeman replied gruffly, "I was with the others. You're still lucky my team was around when you rang."

Tintin took a shot with his phone.

The man chuckled bitterly. "So they're your "team" now? J.M. Dawson and his "team" of police idiots?"

Dawson clicked his tongue and pulled out a flash disk from his pocket. "_You're_ the idiot, Allan."

Tintin took another shot.

Allan took the flash disk, flipped it in his hand and shoved it in his pocket. "No, that wasn't me who took care of Dawes. I'm not _sloppy_ like that."

"So this isn't your mess I'm cleaning up?"

Allan glared at him.

Another shot.

"What did you do to Kuraki then?"

Allan raised an eyebrow. "Bunji Kuraki? Taken care of."

"He's dead too?"

Tintin froze at the word. Who was this man? A murderer?

"No, too dangerous," Allan responded. "Japanese policemen and all. They're actually _smart_."

Dawson scoffed. "Well, I haven't got much time. They'll be looking for me."

"They won't find out, right? About Dawes?"

Dawson laughed, turning away from the man and walking away. "Next time your boys are out making a mess, I don't want to be the one cleaning it up!"

Tintin took one last shot and went back into hiding. His tensed as Dawson passed by, heading straight out of the woods, oblivious of his presence.

He breathed a sigh of relief, and when the coast was clear, he raced back to the bank, clutching tightly to his phone.

He didn't know what he was getting into.


	3. Chapter 3

When he got back, most of the policemen were already leaving. From the looks of it, they've lost the thief. Tintin was ready to leave, too, somehow convinced that what he had was going to be a much better story than a bank robbery.

Whatever it was.

"Oi! You!"

Tintin could feel his heart skip a beat. He turned around slowly, watching two policemen approach him.

They looked like twins.

"What are you doing here? We cleared the area!"

"I… Uhm…" Tintin stuttered. "I-I'm sorry, I just got here…"

"Of course you did," one of them said, disbelieving.

"Precisely," the other chimed in. "Your identification please?"

Tintin sighed. He hadn't finished his article research, he missed out on a story that probably could have been on the front page, and he didn't even know what he actually had in his phone.

He was not ready to get in trouble.

He fished his wallet out of his pocket, showing his ID to the two policemen.

"A reporter, Mr. Tintin?"

"Yes," he said, nodding. "And like I said, I just got here."

"Alright," one of them exhaled and smoothed out his uniform. "I think this one's no trouble, Thomson."

The other nodded in agreement. "Quite right, Thompson. You are free to go now, Mr. Tintin. Please carry on."

"Good day," they said in unison.

Tintin arched an eyebrow at the both of them, trying to keep himself from smiling in amusement. "And to you too."

They left him on his own, and he spaced out in uncertainty of what to do next, until Snowy yapped in impatience. His gaze fell on the terrier, his hand kept fiddling with the phone, and his mind recalled all the information he gathered from Dawson and Allan earlier.

A smirk slowly made its way to his lips, and Snowy already knew what it meant. "We're going after a big story, Snowy."

Snowy was initially eager to go home, but at the promise of a new adventure, he yapped and wagged his tail in excitement.

Tintin rushed over to the two policemen, Thompson and Thomson, after making sure that Dawson's car was no longer around.

"Detectives! Wait!"

They turned together, and Tintin caught up with them. He didn't know if this was the right thing to do, and he didn't know where to start.

"Are you finished around here?" he asked.

"We were just wrapping up," Thompson replied.

"To be precise, just wrapping up we were," Thomson added. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh, good, no, I was just…" Tintin exhaled. "I was just wondering, one of your men, Dawson, was it?"

"Dawson? Yes, what about him?"

"Right. I don't know if this is going to mean anything to you, but," Tintin said as he browsed for the pictures. "I saw him earlier, wandering off that way," Tintin continued and gestured to the woods, "and he met this man in a trench coat and a hat, handed over a flash disk to him, then ran off, and—"

"Hold up," Thomson interrupted. "Now why are you telling us all of this?"

"…I heard something about someone being dead."

The two of them gasped. "Was there a murder?"

"I don't know," Tintin murmured, then gave them his phone. "Look, I've got pictures. I was there."

They scrolled through the images. Indeed, Dawson was there with a man, giving him a flash disk that looked familiar…

"That flash disk!" Thompson exclaimed. "Thomson! Wasn't that from our case yesterday?"

Thomson squinted his eyes, and realization fell on him. "Great Scotland Yard, you're right! It was on the dead body! What was he doing with it?"

Tintin's eyes gleamed in interest. "A dead body?"

"There was a murder last night," Thomson explained. "A man named Herbert Dawes was found dead near the airport."

"There was a blow on the back of his head," Thompson added. "We haven't figured out anything, but we found his wallet and that flash disk in his pocket."

"Dawes, that's the name he mentioned!" Tintin said. "Where did you keep the flash disk?"

"We left it in the evidence room, of course. They were going to scan through what was in it this morning," Thomson answered. "I should give them a call right now. Thompson, get Dawson on the phone."

"No, wait!" Tintin said suddenly. "Don't get Dawson on the phone, you don't know what he's into."

"He's one of us, Mr. Tintin," said Thompson. Your accusation is very serious—"

"And I have proof, you just scrolled through them!"

Thomson murmured a thank you on his phone, ending a call. "It's still there, Thompson! They just checked and said it's empty."

"You see?" Thompson said to Tintin. "It never went anywhere!"

Tintin bit his lip. Why would a man – who was murdered – carry around an _empty_ flash disk? His mind kept telling him that Dawson must have made a switch before he left, but then he thought that maybe everything he witnessed was nothing.

But then he remembered, and he knew that there was _definitely_ something going on.

"I heard something else," he began. "Something about Bunji Kuraki. Dawson asked if… If 'he was dead, too'."

The Thompsons' eyes widened together. "Bunji Kuraki!"

"Precisely! The missing Japanese policeman!"

Tintin's ears perked up at the word. "He's missing?"

"He was on duty investigating a case here in the country. And a few days ago, he just disappeared."

"What was he investigating?" Tintin asked.

"We were never told," said Thompson. "We only received a report that he went missing."

"But if you _do_ know something, Mr. Tintin, you ought to come with us to the police station right away!"

"Precisely! We're going to need everything you have on that phone of yours, too."

Tintin blinked. "I-I'd be glad to help. But what about Dawson?"

"We'll keep it from him and he won't suspect a thing," Thomson promised with an assuring nod. "Will you come along with us now?"

Tintin tried to stop himself from grinning. "Oh, yes, I'll come along right now."

_Now_ he was ready to get in trouble.


End file.
